The Problems with Dean
by SciFiNutTX
Summary: AU – John disappeared in the night shortly after Mary died, leaving the boys with Mike, his business partner. Dean & Sam are teens with a younger adoptive brother. CH5 up. Complete
1. Chapter 1

AU – John disappeared in the night shortly after Mary died, leaving the boys with Mike, his business partner.

My first AU. Feedback appreciated.

Dean – 17 Sam – 13 Mikey – 11

**The Problems with Dean**

Mike trudged through his front door, weary from another short-handed day at work. If only he could keep a junior mechanic on staff. He sighed as he sank into a kitchen chair with a beer, not quite ready to clean up.

The boys were playing basketball in the driveway, meaning he'd had to park on the street. Their taunts and laughter filtered into the kitchen. He wondered briefly where Dean was, but if the younger boys were outside he guessed Dean could not be far. Mike had never known a teenager who was more of a mother hen.

When he heard Sam's triumphant cry, Mike knew the game was over and his quiet time was about to be invaded. Sure enough, Sam and Mikey got into a shoving match coming through the kitchen door.

"Break it up!" Dean's sharp voice sounded behind them. Mike started at the sound. He wondered if he ever heard the oldest string that many word together before, though Sam often assured him that Dean could hold a full conversation.

The younger boys grinned at each other, bracing themselves against the doorframe, intentionally blocking the door. Mike watched curiously as a hand gripped each boys' shoulder. Mikey was shoved through first, then Sam, closely followed by Dean roughly handling both boys. When he saw Mike, Dean's hands flew to his sides and he looked at the tile floor. At the reaction, which still made Mike cringe even after thirteen years, he had a sudden inspiration.

"Dean? You interested in an after school job?" Mike looked hopefully at the older boy. Dean was nothing if not reliable.

When Dean did not respond, Sam nudged his older brother. "Dean, weren't you just talking about getting a job so you could buy that car?"

"Car?" Mike perked up. "You're looking at getting a car?" Thank God – maybe Dean was doing some normal teenage stuff!

Dean just nodded, his eyes glued to the floor.

"What kind of car?" Mike asked, hoping to keep up the interaction. Even years of therapy and family counseling had not broken this wall of silence Dean built around himself.

Sam nudged him again. "At least show him the ad," Sam hissed.

"Yeah, Dean," Mikey piped up. "It's all you've talked about all freaking week!"

"Language," Dean warned softly before Mike could open his mouth. Mikey glared back at the seventeen year old, but he clamped his mouth shut at the look on Mike's face. "Sorry, Pop," Mikey said sheepishly.

"It's okay, but don't let it happen again." Mike returned his attention to Dean. "So are you going to show me the ad or not?"

Sam nudged Dean forward, closer to Mike. Dean pulled out a well folded page from the newspaper. He handed it over, avoiding Mike's eyes. Mike noticed the eager look on Sam's face and decided to take this very seriously. Mike skimmed the page until he saw the ad that was circled. It was for a classic Mustang. He suppressed the frown he could feel forming.

"Dean? You know we have some older model cars at the shop for sale. Why don't you pick one out and then you can make payments on it out of your paycheck?" Mike handed the page back.

Dean met his eyes, surprise written all over his face. "Really?" Mike felt gratified that Dean was really looking at him.

"Sure. I need a dependable junior mechanic, we're terribly short handed at work, and you want a car. Why not? Sounds like a perfect match." Mike lifted his beer to take a swig.

"When…" Dean stopped, dropping his gaze. Mike noticed Sam nudge him again. "When can I start?" his voice was barely audible.

Mike grinned. Dean working for him just might be what he needed to crack open that armor the boy wore. "How does tomorrow sound?"

Dean nodded. He started to walk away, but he paused. "How do I get there?"

Mike frowned. "Well, I guess I can swing by the school and pick you up."

Dean's eyes jumped back to his face. "No. I always walk the kids home. You can pick me up here."

Mike thought about arguing the point, but Sam and Mikey were both signaling to him. "Okay, fine. I'll pick you up here after school tomorrow."

Dean nodded, his eyes dropping away from Mike again. Dean left the kitchen quickly as Mike shook his head and sighed.

"Thanks, Pop. It'll be good for him." Sam grinned from ear to ear.

But it was Mikey who was excited. "Yes, yes, yes, yes!" He punched the air, dancing around the kitchen.

Mike could not help but chuckle. "What are you so excited about?"

"Dean's gonna be able to take me to school and the movies! Yes!" Mikey shouted.

"Now, Mikey. You don't know that," Mike warned.

"Yeah he does," Sam glared at Mike. "Dean said so."

Mike frowned. "I don't know about that." It just seemed like too much responsibility for a kid, even if Dean was seventeen now.

"Pop!" Sam's eyes rolled dramatically. "Come on! Dean already walks us to and from school everyday. I don't know how many bullies he's saved both of us from, especially Mikey." Sam cut his eyes at the younger boy.

"It's not my fault some kids don't have a sense of humor," Mikey growled defensively.

"But it might be your fault that you got your sense of humor from Dean," Mike pointed out.

Sam's eyes rolled again, this was an old argument. Mikey glared at him. "Pop, what have you got against Dean, anyway?"

Mike was floored. "Against him? What the hell makes you think that I have something against Dean?"

"The way you're always picking on him. Telling him he does too much with us. Criticizing his grades. Trying to move him out of our room." Mikey met Mike's eyes and he was angry, really angry. Mike wondered if he had ever seen his son this angry before.

"But…But it's for his own good. It's what the therapists keep telling us to do." Mike could not believe his own family was attacking him like this.

"Maybe you should listen to us occasionally, instead of those damn doctors," Sam said quietly.

Mike's jaw dropped. His eyes shifted between the two boys standing in front of him who, at only eleven and thirteen, were staunchly defending their oldest brother. Mike held up both hands. "All right. All right. So tell me."

Sam stepped out of the room. He stood in the den for a minute, listening. With a satisfied nod, he came back. "He's listening to his music. We're good." Sam redirected his attention to Mike. He swallowed hard. "Dean needs us around. He needs to take us to school and bring us home. Every time you tell him he shouldn't be doing that, he mopes for weeks."

"And he needs to stay in our room." Mikey added. "Dean keeps me and Sam from killing each other. Plus he still has those nightmares."

This was news. "He told the therapist he hadn't had those nightmares for years."

Sam shrugged. "He's learned to tell them what they want to hear. Honest, Pop, they aren't helping. If anything, Dean is usually more withdrawn when he comes back than he was to begin with."

"Takes about two days after a session to get him to crack a smile," Mikey informed him morosely.

Mike felt his jaw go slack. Could all the doctors be making it worse? He stood, his beer only half finished, and left the room. Mike paused by the boys' room. He waited, listening to Led Zepplin played at too low a volume eeking past the door. Mike made a decision, one he hoped he would not regret, for Dean's sake. He knocked. The music stopped abruptly.

The door opened slowly. "Yes, sir?"

"Dean, you know with you working at the shop," he paused, wondering what his wife was going to say later, "I don't think you'll have time to see your doctors as well as pick the boys up from school." Dean looked crestfallen. "So you're going to have to forego the therapy for a while. We'll have to see how it goes."

Dean's mouth opened and closed a few times like a fish floundering out of the water. His eyes lit up for the first time Mike had seen in years. Literally. Years. "Okay, Pop." He sounded breathless.

Mike stood there, just looking at the teen until Dean's eyes dropped again. "Well, uh, you better get your sleep tonight. I'm going to work your ass off tomorrow."

Even past the averted gaze, he could see the grin on Dean's face. "Yes, sir."

He had been right to worry about his wife's reaction. Kate was furious. Mike even had to call in Sam and Mikey to testify that they felt the therapy was hindering Dean's progress. In the end, Kate agreed to try it on a test basis only. If, after a month, Dean either showed no improvement or was worse, the boy was going back to therapy. Mike agreed.

The next afternoon Mike waited in the kitchen for the boys to come home from school. He was surprised to hear Mikey shouting as they neared the house.

"I can't believe you did that! It was so embarrassing!"

Dean's voice snapped back, "What was I supposed to do? Let him beat you to a pulp?"

The kitchen door slammed open, metal blinds rattling against the window. Mikey stormed in, his face red and one eye swollen. Before Mike could say anything, Mikey ran upstairs.

"What the hell happened?" He demanded as soon as Sam walked through the door.

"Remember what I told you about bullies picking on Mikey?" Sam asked. Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "Well this dude at Mikey's school just wouldn't quit. He had it coming." Sam was deathly serious.

"Had what coming?" Mike was afraid of the answer.

Sam grinned. "Dean." To Sam, that seemed to say it all.

"Dean, what did you do?" Mike's heart was pounding in his chest. Dean had taken various marital arts since he was six, at the therapists' suggestion. It was supposed to make him self-reliant and self-confident. To Mike neither ever appeared to happen.

Dean's eyes met his and, for a change, did not look immediately away. "Some asshole had Mikey pinned on the ground, beating the crap out of him. I stopped it and now he's pissed at me." There was something Mike did not recognize flashing in those green eyes. It was only after he looked at Sam that Mike was able to name it. Anger. Dean was angry.

"Um, Sam? Think you can look after Mikey? We're late for work." Mike could not pull his eyes away from Angry Dean. It was frightening and thrilling all at the same time. Dean could be angry? Dean could explain himself without needing Sam The Interpreter?

"Sure, Pop. No problem." Sam pulled out a ziplock bag and started filling it with ice. Dean moved to go back out the door after dropping his schoolbag on the floor.

"No. You need to change first." Mike tossed him the light blue coveralls waiting on the table.

Dean nodded before leaving the room. He returned in his new coveralls that had his name emblazoned over his left chest. "How did you get this so fast?" he asked, pointing to his name.

Mike shrugged. "Actually, I've been kinda hoping you'd ask to come work at the shop."

Dean graced him with a rare smile before heading out the door. After a week, Mike decided he had definitely made the right call in hiring Dean. Not only was he reliable, but a quick study and inventive. After only two days Dean had reorganized the tool rack he shared with a senior mechanic to be more efficient. When Mike questioned the older man about Dean invading his area, the mechanic had grinned and informed Mike that if all Dean's ideas were this good, the boy could invade his space any time.

Mike had been shocked to find by the end of that first week Dean was actually speaking up at the dinner table.

"So then Jake told me he was taking his whole family, they have two kids, up to the…"

"Three," Dean interrupted as he motioned for Mikey to pass the mashed potatoes. Apparently their disagreement about the bully was over.

"Excuse me?" Mike asked, more surprised that Dean had spoken than anything. Usually they had to drag information out of him.

"Jake has three kids: Josh, Jordan and Lizzie." Dean glopped the potatoes onto his plate, his eyes only on the task at hand.

"No, I'm pretty sure they only have two. Maybe you're thinking of someone else?" Mike suggested. He did not want to squash Dean's new-found voice, but he could not have the boy spouting off wrong information, either.

"Nope." Dean ladled gravy over his potatoes. "He has three kids. You can ask him tomorrow if you don't believe me."

Kate's eyebrows arched at Mike. Normally they did not allow backtalk, especially at the table. Mikey looked amused while Sam was plain shocked.

"I will. And I will expect an apology here, at this table, tomorrow night when I prove you wrong," Mike informed him.

Dean shrugged. He said nothing else for the rest of dinner, silently passing dishes as the younger boys related their days at school. The next morning Mike made a point of calling Jake into his office to enquire about his family. He was shocked to learn that Jake did have three kids, and Dean even had their names right. What was he going to say at dinner? Forget that, what would he say when he picked up Dean for work?

Mike decided to play it cool and act like it never happened. When he picked up his oldest teen, Dean was quiet as usual. Mike thought maybe Dean looked at him a few times during the drive, but he carefully steered the topic around what would be expected of the boy today. Dean mumbled a few "yes, sirs" but that was it. Mike thought he was off the hook.

At dinner that night, Mike encouraged Sam and Mikey to talk about their days first. Both younger boys could really talk, so he was banking on them talking all through dinner. Unfortunately, Mike had forgotten to let his wife in on the plan.

"Dean, don't you have something to say?" Kate asked, interrupting Sam.

Dean shook his head, shoveling in another forkful of food.

"I think you do," Kate said in a singsong voice.

"If the boy doesn't have anything to say, that's fine, Kate," Mike said, shooting her a look which she ignored.

"No, it's not. He told you yesterday that you were wrong, now it's time for Dean to apologize. Dean?" Kate set down her fork to stare at him.

Dean ignored everyone, continuing to eat as if no one had spoken. Sam and Mikey looked on, following each syllable.

"Dean?"

Mike cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Um, actually, Dean was right," he announced. "Jake does have three kids. He probably got their names right too, I don't remember." For a split second he thought he caught Dean's eyes cutting to the side to look at him, but then it was gone.

"Oh. Well," Kate wrung her napkin, glaring at Mike for making her look stupid in front of the whole family. Mike tried to smile apologetically, but he knew he was going to be paying for that one for a while. "In that case, Mike, you owe Dean an apology." Her eyes said he owed her one, too.

Mike cleared his throat. He noticed Dean was no longer eating, just waiting silently. "Um, sorry, Dean."

"For doubting you," Kate prompted.

"Sorry for doubting you," Mike parroted, hoping that would get him off the hook with Kate for a while, though he doubted it.

Dean nodded, then resumed eating. He glanced up to glare at Mikey and Sam, who were openly staring over the apology, which was virtually unheard of from adults in this house. At the look from Dean, Mikey and Sam dove into their plates, racing to see who finished dinner first. Dean took his time, finishing his meal later than the boys.

When all three were finished, Mikey and Sam chorused, "May we be excused?"

"Don't you want dessert?" Kate asked.

"No, thank you!" Mikey and Sam jumped up from the table and raced upstairs. Dean sighed and stood, apparently intending to follow.

"Dean," Mike caught the boy's arm, "what's going on?"

One side of Dean's mouth turned up in a smirk. "I lost a bet." He waited until Mike released his arm before heading upstairs. Mike waited, listening to the heavy footsteps on the stairs. A door opened and there were boys' screams and heavy thumps from upstairs.

"Apparently Dean gets to be the jungle gym now," Mike chuckled. He looked over at Kate, who was frowning deeply. "Ah, now what?"

"He bet that you wouldn't apologize," Kate pointed out. "Is that what we look like to them? Adults too proud to admit when their own kids are right?"

Mike chewed the inside of his cheek. That logic was hard to argue with, and he was not sure if he wanted to answer it.

Kate shook her head. "We've been doing a lot of things wrong, haven't we?" She sighed, starting to clear the dishes. "And we've wasted a whole lot of money."

"That we have," Mike picked up the bowl of brussel sprouts which was still untouched and dumped it in the sink. He turned to face his wife. "So I take it Dean's finished with therapy?"

Kate brushed a tear off her cheek as she nodded. "I can't believe how much better…" her voice broke and she shook her head. "He's actually talking! You should have made him go to work for you years ago," she poked him in the chest.

"I don't think it was just that," Mike said, rinsing the dinner plates before shoving them into the dishwasher. "I think it was a combination of work, not going to therapy, and encouraging him to walk the boys home from school."

"Is he still doing that?" Kate frowned.

Mike grabbed her by the arms. "Honey, I think he lives for that. I really do. You should have heard him the other day when he stopped a bully from pounding Mikey into next week. He sounded…" What was the right word? Kate was waiting expectantly. "He sounded…alive."

She bit her lower lip and nodded. "I've seen that, too," she whispered. "I guess I was jealous that the boys seem to respond better to him. I wanted that. I…" A few more tears trickled down her cheeks. "I guess I'd just better get over that, huh?"

Mike chuckled as he wiped away her tears. "I guess we both better." He retrieved more dirty dishes from the table. "And he really is working out at the garage. I couldn't ask for a better junior mechanic. Most of the guys seem to like him too."

"Just most?" Kate asked.

Mike shrugged. "Well, there's always one or two who shout nepotism, but you gotta ignore that."

There was another loud thump upstairs. "Should we make sure they're not killing each other up there?" she asked, looking at the ceiling with a worried expression.

"Nah. Boys will be boys."

There was a heavy knock on the front door. Mike waved Kate away as he went to answer it. When he reached for the doorknob, he heard the pounding of many feet in the upstairs hall headed for the stairs.

"I got it!" he shouted upstairs. He pulled the door open and his jaw dropped.

Filling his doorway was the one man he never expected to see again. John Winchester. The man who had abandoned his sons to Kate and Mike, mailed them the legal paperwork weeks later, and never tried to make contact with them again.

"Hey, Mike. Can I come in?" The deep baritone was forever etched in Mike's memory, but he could not open the door any further. What if the boys saw him? What might happen? Dean was always in such a fragile state, this could send him reeling after making so much progress! He felt anger flare.

"Get out!" Mike slammed the door in his face. He stood breathing heavy, leaning against the door.

"Pop?" Dean's hand was on his shoulder. "What is it?"

Mike turned. Dean was looking at him and did not look away. Dean initiated a question. Dean was concerned. Dean was worried about him. There was no force on Earth that would make him open that door, not now. "Nothing, son. Go back upstairs," Mike whispered.

John beat on the door, he never was one to be ignored. Mike scowled at the sound.

He felt Dean's hands pull him aside. He watched, helpless, as though he were in a nightmare and unable to interact with the world around him, as Dean opened the door. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, you can. I'm looking for Dean and Sam Winchester. Can you help me?" John's voice rang out in the evening air.

"Dad?" Mike cringed. He had never been able to convince Dean to call him that, despite years of trying. The closest Dean had ever come was the dreaded Pop, and the younger boys had picked it up, too.

"Dean?" John sounded relieved. Mike thought he might be having a panic attack.

He heard a crash. Mike whirled around to look. Dean was still standing in the open door, but John was not. He stepped forward. John was sprawled on the ground, holding his jaw.

"Guess I deserved that, huh?" John laughed from where he lay. "At least you didn't grow up soft. That'll help."

"You son of a bitch!" Dean shouted, his face red and full of fury. Mike glanced back; Sam and Mikey were on the stairs, watching. "You come back after thirteen years? Go to hell!"

Mike wanted to tell the boys to go to their room, to stop watching. But he could not move. His brain and body were frozen, watching the scene unfold before him in horror.

"Ironically, Hell is the reason I'm here. I've found a way to track the thing that killed your mother, Dean. I want you to help me kill it." John was on his feet, facing down Dean. At one time Mike would have thought that an easy task, but not at this moment. Dean looked like he could have taken on an army of John Winchesters, and that was saying something.

"I said: Go. To. Hell." Dean glared at his father.

"Dean," Mike reached out a hand, breaking his frozen state, steadying the oldest boy. Dean's arm trembled under his touch with pure rage.

"You left us," Dean's voice was barely above a whisper. "You abandoned your family. You don't have the right to come back here now. Pop said Get Out. So get out!" Dean slammed the door in his face. He closed his eyes, leaning heavily against the door and breathing hard. He stayed there until a car engine roared in the night and tires squealed on pavement. "He's gone," he breathed, sliding down to the floor.

"Dads leave," Dean said, staring up at Mike. "I'll never be a dad. Maybe a Pop, but never a dad."

"Dean?" Sam and Mikey were still standing on the stairs. Mikey's mouth was hanging open. Sam looked close to tears.

Dean struggled to stand and the boys raced down to him. Each attached himself to one of Deans' legs after he was standing. "Pop?" Sam cried, tears starting down his cheeks. "You won't let that man take Dean away, will you?"

"Dean's not going anywhere," Mike said softly.

"Why did you call him Dad?" Mikey asked, his head pressed against Dean's stomach.

"Because I'm adopted," Dean said, ruffling both boys' hair. "He used to be my father." He exchanged a look with Mike. Mike was grateful for Dean not mentioning that Sam was adopted too.

"I have to talk to Mom," Sam ran to the kitchen.

"Mom!"

Mike rushed after him. Did he hear John asking for him too? Was that what Sam was worried about? As he entered the kitchen, he saw Sam clinging to Kate, tears streaming down his face. Heavy footsteps behind him signaled that Dean and Mikey were close on his heels.

"Can that man take Dean away?" Sam demanded, shaking her arms.

"What man?" she asked, her eyes meeting Mike's. Mike sighed, shaking his head. "John? He was here?" she whispered, fear flashing across her features.

"Dean's not going anywhere," Mike insisted again, hoping if he said it enough times it would be true.

Dean shook off Mikey to kneel next to Sam, to look up into his younger brother's face. "Sammy, it's okay. He's gone. And if he comes back, I'll hit him again."

Mike heard Kate gasp. She looked to him for confirmation. Mike nodded, feeling more helpless than he did when he watched it happen.

Sam flung his arms around Dean's neck. "Don't let him take you without me," Sam cried. "I have to look after you!"

Dean stood, lifting the sobbing boy with him. He shot Mike a quizzical look, but Mike could only shrug. He had no idea what Sam was going on about either. Dean made eye contact with Mikey. There were tears in those eyes, too.

"Did someone mention dessert?" Dean asked softly.

Kate regained her posture first. "Absolutely. Dessert." She bustled around the kitchen gathering dessert plates and setting them on the table. "Cherry pie and ice cream."

Mike watched the family he had never asked for gather around the table. His family. For the first time in thirteen years, he felt like the luckiest man alive.

Mike served pie while Kate scooped ice cream. "So, Dean," he asked, watching out of the corner of his eye as Dean's attitude and presence calmed the younger boys, "have you given any thought to college?"

"Not really," Dean shrugged.

"Well, maybe you should," Mike stated. "A business degree could be helpful, especially if you're interested in running the garage one day."

Dean's head snapped up, his mossy green eyes boring into Mike. A slow grin seeped into the teen's face as he gave a slight nod. "Maybe someplace local?" he asked tentatively.

"Of course," Kate replied brusquely. "The house wouldn't be the same without you."

It was true, Mike reflected, the house would not be the same without Dean. And right now he would not, could not, have it any other way.


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, jjackles pointed out some things I left hanging. I hate it when I do that! And a few others asked for a second chapter, so here it is. Hope it's okay. I might be arm-twisted into a third chapter when the boys are older and Sam is in college, so if you wanna see that you better let me know.

**Chapter 2**

"Hey, Dean!" Mike called, peering into the bay.

Dean pulled out from under the hood of a Chevy Malibu. "Yeah?" There were streaks of grease on his face and rings of sweat under his arms.

"Come here for a minute!" Mike shouted, barely able to contain his excitement.

Dean frowned as he carefully set down the tool he was using. He walked quickly to Mike's office. Mike shut the door behind them, keeping in the cool air. He waved a letter at Dean. "It came!"

"What came?" Dean tried wiping his hands off on his coveralls.

"Look!" Mike held up the letter so Dean could see it without holding it. "You were accepted!"

"Accepted?" Dean breathed the word, as though if he were to say it out loud it might shatter into nothingness.

"It's the State University. They even offered a good scholarship, so it won't cost us that much." Mike beamed. Dean was going to college!

Dean's face fell. "Not a full scholarship?" he whispered.

"Well, no." Mike was taken aback by Dean's reaction. Now what? "But since you plan on living at home…" He paused. He just assumed that was what Dean wanted to do. "Do you plan on living at home?"

Dean frowned, staring at Mike. "Maybe."

Mike sat back. They were getting into territory he usually needed Sam to help him navigate. "Would you prefer to discuss this at home?"

Dean stared him for a long moment. "You've done enough for us. I don't want to be a burden."

Mike groaned. Having Dean working with him had opened the doors of communication beyond his farthest expectations, but the boy still threw him a curveball on a regular basis. "Still planning on working here? Maybe taking over one day?"

Dean's face went blank. Mike took that to mean yes. "Then I would consider this a wise investment. If you want to go, you're going." As Dean was about to protest, Mike held up a hand. "And I'm telling Sam about it when we get home."

A deep groan came from Dean, but his facial expression did not change. He stood, looking pointedly at the door.

"Yeah, fine. Go back to work. We'll discuss this later." Mike sighed, tossing the acceptance letter on his desk.

The drive home was in tense silence. Mike was determined to know if Dean really wanted to go or not. He did not want to force the boy to do anything he did not want to do, but damn it! Dean was accepted to college with a decent scholarship and Mike wanted him to go.

At the house, Dean stomped upstairs to clean up. Sam came out, making a beeline for Mike. "What's wrong with Dean?" Sam demanded, blocking Mike's path to the master bedroom so he could not wash before dinner.

"Sam, I want to talk to you about it. Really. But it can wait until after my shower." Mike tried to push past the pudgy boy, but Sam stood his ground.

"No. Dean's upset and he won't tell me why." Sam's arms folded over his chest. "What happened at work?"

Mike sighed. "Sam, it has nothing to do with work. Just let me shower and put on some clean clothes and we'll all sit down and talk about it."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "If it's important enough for everyone to sit down and talk about it, it's important enough for you to wait a few minutes before your shower."

With an effort, Mike did not roll his eyes. He knew exactly where this stubborn streak came from. It was genetic. Dean had it too, he was just quieter about it. Mikey was downright easy going by comparison, but he had not hit puberty yet either.

"Sam," Mike locked eyes with the boy, reminded himself that he was talking to a boy, "after my shower." He shoved past Sam to his bedroom.

When Mike came back out, showered and dressed in clean clothes for dinner, he found Sam camped outside his bedroom door. Sam glowered at him, eyes narrowed, waiting. Mike sighed as he lowered himself to the floor to sit next to Sam.

"What are you worried about, Sam?" Mike asked. He and Kate had taken care of Sam since the boy was six months old, and Mike still had trouble understanding the boy at times.

Sam's face was hard, his eyes cold. "What happened at work to upset Dean?"

"Nothing, I told you." Sam continued to stare. "It's about school. And I really did want to talk to you about it."

"I'm here," Sam stated. Mike was willing to bet the boy would not budge without what he considered to be a suitable answer, too.

"Do you think Dean would like to go to college?" Mike asked, hoping for the answer he wanted.

Sam's forehead scrunched in a way that made him look much older and was almost comical on a thirteen year old. Almost. "Away to college?" he asked cautiously.

"No. Here. The State University is only an hour drive. He can commute." Mike searched Sam's face for the signs he wanted.

"I'll talk to him," Sam said. He cocked his head to one side. "I'm really not sure."

Mike held out the acceptance letter. "Dean was accepted. He even got a decent scholarship."

Sam's face lit up. "No kidding? Awesome." Then Sam's face fell as he read through the letter carefully. "Would I be able to talk to his professors? You know, before classes start?" His dark eyes were serious.

"What for?"

"To be sure I like them," Sam replied. "I always talk to Dean's teachers before classes start."

Mike leaned forward so he could really look into Sam's face. "You do what?"

"I talk to Dean's teachers before classes start every year," Sam replied with a shrug. "I have to make sure they're going to be nice to him, since he doesn't like to talk." A frown creased Sam's face. "Some have been really mean to him, you know."

"Yeah, I know." Mike said softly. "But I think Dean's doing a lot better with the talking now. One of his teachers called me at work last week to let me know that Dean was participating in class discussions now." He grinned. "She wanted to know if he had a new therapist."

Sam grinned too. "What did you say?"

Mike stood and pulled the boy to his feet. "The truth. What therapist?" He chuckled and Sam joined in. Mike draped an arm around his son as they walked into the den. With Mikey's birth he had feared Sam might be lost in the shuffle as the middle child, but not Sam. Of the three boys, Sam was the one not to be ignored. Sam was the one who came to him and Kate with the other boys' problems, who stood up for himself, who was a constant problem at school because he spoke out so much. He constantly argued with the teachers. So Mike did not know why he was so surprised to discover that Sam was also screening Dean's teachers.

Dean and Mikey were watching television. Dean's face darkened when he saw Mike and Sam together and he averted his gaze back to the flickering screen. Sam walked over to stand in front of the screen. Dean continued to stare blankly, as though he could see right through his younger brother.

"Hey!" Mikey shouted. "We're watching that!"

Sam reached down and shut it off manually. "Not right now. Dean, I need to talk to you."

Dean's eyes flicked over Mike before settling on Sam. "No."

"What's going on?" Mikey asked, apparently realizing what was happening now was more serious, and interesting, than the show they were watching.

"Here or in the room?" Sam demanded, not breaking eye contact with Dean.

Without a word, Dean stood and stalked off to the stairs. Sam and Mikey followed closely as Mike watched. Mike debated with himself on whether he should go up and listen at the door. He really wanted to know what was going to happen in that crowded bedroom, but the boys would undoubtedly see it as a betrayal of trust. That was one thing all the therapists and counselors had agreed on: parents had to have their kids' trust. So Mike sighed to himself and went into the kitchen for a beer.

Kate was making meatloaf. Mike listened to the details of her day, one ear tuned for the sound of sneakers on stairs. Finally, Kate noticed that it was too quiet or too still or something.

"Where are the boys?" she asked, slipping into a chair across from Mike while the meatloaf bubbled in the oven.

"Upstairs," Mike jerked his head, "deciding the fate of the universe." He sighed, wishing he could be a part of it.

Her brow creased. "Fate of the universe?"

"Dean's acceptance letter came today, but he said he didn't want to go because it wasn't a full scholarship." Mike lifted the nearly empty bottle to his mouth.

"That's ridiculous!" Kate breathed. "Does he… Doesn't he think we…" Her eyes searched his.

"Something about being a burden," Mike supplied, though he was unsure what exactly that meant. "I told Sam."

"Oh." She sat still, considering that. "Sam is making him talk about it, then?"

Mike nodded.

"That means he's going," she said confidently. "Good. If I'd known I would have made something Dean liked better than meatloaf." She frowned. "Maybe we can all go out to dinner this weekend to celebrate?"

"Works for me," Mike said. "You sound pretty sure about this." The butterflies in his stomach had not settled since Dean left his office earlier today.

"We're talking about Sam, Mike," Kate glared at him. "He's like a force of nature. You can't resist him forever."

Mike could not help the small grin he felt forming. "I know. But we are talking about Dean, too. Sam versus Dean? Not sure who I'd put my money on there." His beer was empty, so he tossed it in the trash. Mike debated on whether or not to have a second.

Kate sighed. They heard feet pummeling the stairs. Mike rushed to sit back down and look casual, like he had not been waiting for this.

"He's going," Sam announced as he blew into the kitchen.

"I'm not!" Dean's voice boomed from just outside the room. He stormed into the kitchen behind the younger boys.

"Why not?" Mikey demanded, turning on Dean. By the look on Dean and Sam's faced, they may have forgotten Mikey was even there.

"It's asking too much," Dean insisted.

"That's stupid!" Mikey shouted. "You have a scholarship, a job, and soon you're gonna have a car, too. How is it asking too much?"

"It… It just is." Dean's arms folded across his chest in an all too familiar way.

"They're our parents, Dean," Mikey's eyes were pleading now. "That's what parents do. Who else can you ask too much of?"

Mike noticed Sam had the same expression as Mikey. Dean's face was no longer hard and blank. He seemed to be listening to the younger boys in a way that he did not listen to anyone else. When his eyes met Mike's, Mike nodded in agreement with Mikey. Then he looked to Kate, who also nodded. Before their collectively amazed eyes, they saw tears build up in the oldest boy's eyes. He did not cry, but a few offending drops cascaded down his face.

"Really?" he whispered, still looking at Kate.

"We want you to go," she said softly, "and it's close enough to commute." Mike knew she threw in that last part so Dean would not think she meant they wanted him out of the house.

Dean's eyes dropped to the floor. He stood there, not moving for at least a full minute. Mike did not realize he was holding his breath until Dean nodded and he let it out.

"I still expect to meet your professors," Sam demanded, shaking a finger at his older brother.

Dean wiped off his cheek with one hand, nodding at Sam without looking at him. "Fine."

"And when will your car be ready?" Mikey asked, bubbling with excitement. Everyone turned to look at the youngest boy. Where did that come from? "What?" he asked. "There's a movie coming out I wanna see."

"Soon," Mike assured him, grinning. "So did Dean tell you which one he picked out?"

Dean grabbed the dinner plates sitting out to start setting the table. The younger boys darted around the kitchen, grabbing silverware and glasses. "No, sir," they chorused.

"It's an old Impala. You're going to love it. Big old muscle car." Dean met his eyes briefly as he set a plate down in front of Mike. A small smile quirked at the edges of his mouth. Mike nodded back a silent 'you're welcome.' "Ought to be ready by next week, don't you think, Dean?"

"Maybe," Dean shrugged noncommittally, but that light shone in his eyes. The light Mike had seen briefly when he told Dean no more therapists, the light he had feared died within the boy years ago, it shone now. And right now was all that mattered.


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, I've been arm-twisted! Here's the next chapter and I have at least one more planned after this. Hope you like it!!

**Chapter 3 - Six Years Later**

Dean parked on the street just outside Sam and Jess' place. Fortunately the drive from Lawrence to Palo Alto was not trivial, so he hoped the panic from the nightmare that sent him cross country in the middle of the night did not show. Sam was too good at picking up on his moods, which is why he did not bother to stop at a motel to sleep on the way. He pulled into rest stops for a couple hours sleep at a time, just long enough to recharge his batteries without allowing the nightmare to come back.

He studied his breathing as his gaze swept over the townhouse. Even, regular – normal. That was good. His fingers ran over the crumpled letter in his pocket. Would he show it to Sam? Dean shook his head. He could not decide. It was too ridiculous, too crazy. Sam might even suggest he go back into therapy for not throwing it away already. He shuddered at the thought of more therapy.

There was a tap on his window. Dean looked up into Sam's grinning face. He had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts, he had not noticed Sam coming outside. With a sheepish grin, he rolled down the window.

"You made it!" Sam cried, excited.

He could not help the frown that creased his face. Had he been invited? Or had their parents been looking for him?

"Where's Mikey?" Sam leaned into the window.

"Mikey?" Dean's mind was in a whirl.

"You said you might bring him with you for Halloween," Sam was giving him that worried look.

Was it Halloween? "Oh, right. Uh, school's still in." He knew the answer was weak but he hoped Sam would buy it.

Sam's worry faded into a broad grin. "That means we'll be able to party. You bring a costume?"

Dean shook his head. That would have been a trick considering he did not know it was Halloween.

"Come on. You still haven't met Jess," Sam opened his door for him. Dean stepped out and stretched. He was rewarded with small pops from his neck and back, relieving some of the tension from the long drive. Sam stopped him before they walked up the path to the door. "You are staying here, right? While you're visiting?"

Dean nodded. He had not considered anything else.

"Then let's go ahead and get your bag," Sam bounded to the car. Dean waited while Sam retrieved his small bag from the backseat. "Kinda light," Sam quipped as they headed to the townhouse together. Dean shrugged. It was the first thing he had found in his nightmare-induced panic. It held one pair of jeans, a few t-shirts, some clean underwear and socks. It was unimportant. His eyes rested on Sam's back. Sam was important.

Sam threw open the door. "Jess! Guess who made it?" he shouted into the house.

Dean followed slowly. The inside looked like it belonged to college students. The furniture looked used but clean. The couch had definitely seen better days, but Dean would be happy to pretend to sleep on it. The hardwood floors were recently swept and a few pictures graced the walls. The one of their family, with Dean's head trapped under Sam's arm – the only way he could be forced into the picture – brought a grin to his face.

"One of these days I'm going to get you to take a decent picture," Sam said, catching him.

"Don't bet on it," Dean replied evenly, still grinning. It felt good, right, just to be around Sam again.

A pretty girl, no, a pretty lady, stepped out. She had flowing blonde hair and a killer smile. Dean could feel his jaw go slack and feared his eyes might pop out of his head. "Don't tell me this is your brother, Dean?" She approached him, her hand out.

He was frozen to the spot. Sam was the one who could talk to the pretty girls, not him. Hell, he could barely talk to customers at the shop. Dean tried to shake her hand, but for some reason his arm would not move. He felt something familiar. It happened again. He dredged his eyes away from the vision standing before him to look to the side. Sam was nudging him. Oh, right. "Nice to meet you," he managed to croak, though his arms were still made of lead and hanging at his sides.

Sam's hand squeezed his shoulder as he chuckled. "Dean, this is Jess. Jess, my big brother." He felt Sam pushing him toward the couch. Dean allowed himself to be seated while Sam and Jess sat opposite him. "Don't let that shy thing fool you," Sam said conspiratorially to Jess, though it was obvious he was saying it for Dean's benefit, "there wasn't a bully alive who could take down my big brother."

Sam was practically squirming with excitement. Dean knew he had been wanting them to meet for a while, but he really had been too busy over the summer at the garage. And he did not help them move because he had to help Mikey with some school stuff. He could not remember what it was, but he knew it was really important at the time.

"So I've heard," she said, looking Dean in the eye. Dean looked away, his breath catching in his chest. "Sam talks about you all the time."

Dean just nodded. He knew he should say something like that back, about how Sam was always calling and talking about her. He knew it was expected of him, but for some reason his mouth did not want to work.

"Well," she said, and Dean could hear the disappointment in her voice, "I guess I'd better get ready for tonight. Sam?"

"Uh, go ahead," Sam said. Dean was still looking at the wall. "Dean and I aren't going to dress up."

"Okay," she breathed, and Dean felt a shiver down his spine. What he wouldn't give to have a woman talk like that to him? But he would probably just clam up and shut down if it ever happened, so what was the point?

"Dean? She's gone."

He looked away from the wall to Sam. Sam looked worried. Dean took in a large breath and released it. "Nice place," he said.

Sam smiled again. "Thanks. What do you think of Jess?"

Dean's gaze dropped again. "Pretty."

He felt the couch beside him shift under Sam's weight. "She's pretty nice, too. Once you get to know her."

"Got a car?" Dean asked.

"What?" Sam looked at him as though he'd grown another head. "Why?"

Dean shrugged. "Probably needs a tune-up. I know how you college kids are."

"Oh." The broad grin was back. "So you do like her."

Dean rolled his eyes as Sam chuckled. They talked about life at the shop until Jess stepped out in a nurses' uniform that was definitely not regulation. Dean wondered how much more his poor eyeballs could possibly take. At this rate, they would either dry out or just fall out altogether.

"Guess we're ready," Sam said standing. Dean followed meekly out the door, his eyes glued to Jess' swaying hips. Damn. How the hell did Sam manage this?

Dean knew from his own experience that this was a rather sedate college party. Granted, he did not go to many, but he had made friends who dragged him off to a couple. Those were wild, drunken bashes that left him on the edge of a panic attack, until the alcohol started to work. He never could remember much after he started drinking, but he usually woke up the next day with a couple of girl's phone numbers in his wallet. He never had the courage to call any of them, of course, and he was always suspicious they were planted there by his 'friends.'

Sam had started the drinking, handing Dean a beer as soon as they arrived. He had lost count of how many he had about an hour ago.

"You are waaaay out of my brother's league," he informed Jess with a wink.

She pretended to look shocked as Sam slugged him in the shoulder. Dean laughed. It felt good to laugh with people like this. Why didn't he do this more often, he wondered as he drained his beer. "This round's on me," he said, springing up from his seat and heading for the bar. The floor swayed under his feet, but he managed. He slapped down enough for the next round of drinks as he ordered with a confidence that felt both natural and foreign.

He did not remember returning to Sam's place or going to sleep on the couch. But the headache was definitely real. He tried to sit up, but the room spun around so fast Dean sunk back down.

"Coffee?" Sam's voice echoed inside his skull.

"Ssshhhh!" Dean hissed. He tried sitting again, slower this time. The room still rocked, but it did not spin. One hand cradled his forehead while the other motioned to Sam. "And aspirin," he mumbled. Oh god, how much did he drink last night?

Sam's clumsy footsteps reverberated in his head. "Here," his voice was softer this time as he poured the white pills into Dean's hand. Dean swallowed them dry, earning an odd look from his brother. He took the coffee and sat back.

"If I die, you get the car," Dean said.

Sam grinned. "I had no idea you were such a party animal, Dean."

"Huh?" Dean glared at him over the rim of his mug.

"Dude, you were the life of the party," Sam chuckled. Apparently his brother was not feeling the after-affects as much as he was.

"Funny," Dean snarled.

"No, man, I'm serious." Sam was positively glowing. "And Christine is really hoping you'll call her. I hope you do."

"Who's Christine?" Dean rubbed a hand over his head, searching for weak points in his skull that might allow his brains to leak out.

Sam's eyes widened. "You don't remember the name of the girl you spent half the night making out with?"

Dean pointed a finger at him. "You're lying. I've never…" he stopped there. No need to finish that confession. He could feel the heat creeping into his face.

"Well, if you hadn't before, you have now!" Sam laughed. "Don't be like that, Dean. It was really nice to see you having a good time. You should do it more often."

He grunted. "Not if it makes me feel like this."

"Dean?" Sam leaned forward in the chair he was sitting in. "You want to tell me the real reason you came now?"

Dean's eyes shot up to meet Sam's. "You called Mom and Pop."

Sam nodded. "What happened?"

Dean shrugged. It was just a nightmare. The same one he'd had for years, but this time he had been able to smell the smoke and feel the heat from the flames. It had been just real enough to send him barreling out of his tiny apartment in the middle of the night, hell-bent for Stanford. Now, in the light of day, it just sounded stupid. He shook his head. They were not discussing this.

"Promise you'll stay the weekend?" Sam asked. "I already told Mom you would."

Dean sighed, nodding. Fine. That would be easier than facing the same questions from their parents the second he set foot in Lawrence anyway. Not to mention Mikey. Dean almost groaned out loud. Mikey was going to be furious with him for coming to Stanford without his youngest brother in tow.

"Mikey's going to be pissed," Dean moaned.

"He is," Sam confirmed. "But he was more worried about why you'd take off like that. This isn't like you, Dean. What happened?"

Sam, like a dog with a juicy bone, was not going to let go of this one. Dean shook his head. Still not going there. "How bad did I embarrass myself last night?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "You were the life of the party," he said. "Really, Dean. All my friends asked when you could come to the next party, because they don't want to miss you."

Dean sipped at his coffee. "Right," he dismissed it with a wave of his hand.

"Well, if it isn't Mr. Party Animal," Jess glided into the room. "You'd better call Christine, and I mean today. She's expecting it." She sat on the arm of Sam's chair, draping an arm over his shoulders. Dean watched as Sam's face lit up just for her.

"So this Christine thing isn't a joke?" Dean asked, sitting up a little.

"No, of course not," Jess replied, leaning heavily on Sam. She stifled a yawn. "Sam, what's he talking about?"

"He doesn't remember much from last night," Sam said with a chuckle.

Jess sat up. "You're kidding, right?" Her eyes darted from Dean to Sam and back to Dean. "Seriously?"

Dean shrugged, dropping his eyes. He wished he could remember. He had a sense that he felt confident last night, that everything had gone his way, but he could not remember specifically.

TBC...


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks for the amazing response! Really appreciate it! You are all fabulous!! Here's the next chapter, as promised. Chapter 5 will be up soon. Not sure if it will continue after that, though.

**Chapter 4**

Dean enjoyed the feel of hard metal tools in his hands. Tools were reliable, dependable. He wiped away a thin trickle of sweat as he checked the air filter. He grimaced at the filthy thing. It was probably pumping more pollutants into the air at this point. He wondered how Jess' car even managed to start in this condition. He grabbed the box containing the new air filter he purchased earlier with the rest of his tune-up supplies. The box popped open under his experienced hands.

"You look like a natural in there," a voice said from behind him.

Dean jumped, whipping around. A gal close to Sam's age was standing behind him. "Huh?" She was pretty, there was no doubt about that. Bright green eyes and short, sassy auburn hair decorated a rather nice package. His eyeballs were definitely getting a workout here. No wonder Sam chose Stanford!

"I said, you look like a natural," she repeated, stepping closer. "You didn't call me, Dean."

"Huh?" He really needed to work on his vocabulary. His eyes zipped over to the house, hoping to see Sam headed his way. No such luck.

She sighed. "Dean, I thought you liked me. You said you'd call."

He backed away, but Jess' car bumper stopped him cold. Dean swallowed hard. "Um, Christine? I didn't know..didn't realize…how…you're pretty." Oh god, he was such a dork!

She looked puzzled. "Jess called me this morning to tell me how shy you really were. I didn't believe her." Christine stared at him a moment. He felt the sweat pouring down his face and it was relatively cool out. She took another step closer. He heard the blood roaring in his ears, heat steamed off his face, and his heart pounded painfully in his chest. Dean wondered if this was the beginning of a panic attack. The therapists used to tell him he was always on the verge of one.

Christine was standing right in front of him now. Dean shut his eyes, hoping to bring himself under control. He felt something press against his lips. Part of him wanted to bolt, to run as far away as possible. But it was the other part that was in control now, the part he tried not to associate with, the part that was kissing the girl back. Why did he try to avoid this part of himself again? When he opened his eyes, he was slightly surprised to find that he was holding Christine against him, looking down into green eyes that could take his breath away.

"Hi," he heard himself say. "I'm glad you came by."

"Why didn't you call?" she asked, smiling at him.

"I'm stupid?" Where was this coming from? Pod people? Was he possessed? Yeah, right, like possession was even possible.

She laughed. "There's another party tonight. Want to go with me?"

He shook his head. "Not to a party." What was he saying? "Dinner?" Who the hell said that, and why did it sound like his voice?

Christine grinned at him. "I'll meet you here at seven." As she walked away, Dean's eyes roved up and down the subtle curves of her body and rested on her swaying hips. What was it about those hips that just..

"Hey, Dean." For the second time, Dean jumped and spun around. Sam stood behind him, grinning from ear to ear.

"Hey, Sam." Oh, shit. How long was his little brother standing there? "Um, Jess' car is in terrible shape. Looks like it's never had a tune-up." He leveled a finger at Sam. "You should know better."

The wide grin did not waver. "Christine's a nice girl, huh?" Sam leaned over the fender, glancing down into engine. "So, you two going out maybe?"

Dean cleared his throat, reaching for the new air filter. "Later," he said as he slipped the filter in place.

"You'll tell me later?" Sam asked, handing Dean the wingnut for securing the air filter cover.

Dean avoided looking at his brother. "Nope." He spun the wingnut in place. "Going out later tonight."

He felt Sam lean into his shoulder. "You dog."

Dean shrugged, but he could not force the grin on his face away. "Go grab the oil. After I put the oil plug back in and put in fresh oil, we'll be done here. Then we'll need to take it for a spin, make sure there's nothing really wrong."

* * *

When Dean came in late that night, he was slightly surprised to find Sam waiting up for him. Just slightly surprised, because Sam always had looked out for him. He dropped down on the couch next to his younger brother who was watching him with expectant eyes.

"Dude, if I had a gal like Jess waiting on me, I sure wouldn't be hanging around waiting for my doofus brother." Dean looked pointedly toward the bedroom.

Sam chuckled. "Jess will still be there in ten minutes."

"Probably asleep, you idiot." Dean shook his head. Where were Sam's priorities, anyway?

"No big deal," Sam shrugged. He leaned forward to whisper, "So, you're back late." Dean could see his brother's eyes shining with anticipation.

"Yeah." He let out a long, drawn-out sigh of contentment. "Christine is really…nice."

"Dude, it's like three in the morning and all you have to say is she's really nice?" Sam gave him a shove in the shoulder.

"Yep." He jerked his head toward the bedroom. "Get out, you're on my bed."

Sam's arms folded over his chest in an all too familiar pose. "I want details."

"You're not getting any," Dean replied with a grin. "So get going. I'm really tired."

"Are you?" Sam grinned back. "Why? What happened?"

"What? Are we a couple of teenage girls? Get your ass to bed!" Dean reached out, grabbed Sam and hauled him off the couch. "Sheesh!"

Sam stood looking at him uncertainly for a few moments. Then he grinned. "Okay, for now. But you are going to tell me." He walked away with that too-long-legged lope of his.

Dean reached down to take off his shoes, but it had been such a nice evening, he did not want to spoil his memory of it. He sat back and closed his eyes to replay the events over in his head.

"No! Jess! Noooooooo!"

Dean was on his feet, racing for Sam's bedroom. He could smell the smoke from the hall. In the doorway he felt the heat. Sam was lying on the bed, staring straight up and screaming. When he followed Sam's horrified gaze he saw Jess pinned to the ceiling, nasty bloody gashes through her abdomen, surrounded by flames. Sam was off the bed, trying to get to his girlfriend. Dean saw no use in it; the poor girl had to be dead already. He tried pulling his brother away, but Sam kept moving toward Jess. Dean changed tactics. He shoved one shoulder into Sam's abdomen and hefted his brother up and out of the room. He ran, carrying the gangly weight out of the house, before collapsing on the lawn.

Sam was still screaming for Jess when Dean pulled out his cell and fumbled with the numbers for 9-1-1. He reported the fire and the girl lost inside. Within moments the sleepy university neighborhood was awakened by fire department sirens. Dean kept Sam pinned on the lawn, fearing his brother would race back inside. They watched, helpless, as the firefighters dealt with the blaze. Finally, a senior fireman informed them that the fire was out, but they had been unable to save the woman trapped inside. It was not news to Dean, but Sam took this official proclamation worse than seeing it.

Dean watched as his little brother shut down. All trace of emotion drained away. His deep brown eyes turned cold and lifeless. Dean pulled Sam to his feet. They both answered the fire and police departments' questions mechanically, with detached precision. Dean avoided telling them about Jess pinned to the ceiling, and Sam somehow keyed into that, also neglecting to mention it. The sun was peeking over the horizon when Dean finally stuffed Sam inside his Impala and drove them to a nearby motel.

"We should call somebody," Sam said, sitting on one of the beds.

"Who?" Dean asked. He felt like they should be unpacking, but they both lost all their clothes in the fire. All they had was what they were wearing.

"Mom. Pop." His eyes widened. "Oh, god. Jess' parents."

"You have their number on you?" Dean asked, standing over his little brother, who looked so small right now despite his size.

Sam pulled out his cell, staring at it in disbelief. "I had it because I thought you might call. I…I was worried about you. Because you were out so late."

Dean gently took the cell phone away. "How are they listed in here?"

"Just under Moore." Sam buried his face in his hands. Dean gave his shoulder a squeeze before heading outside. There was no need for Sam to hear this conversation.

When Dean came back in their room, Sam was still in the same position. He was about to say something when he realized that he heard soft snoring. Sam was sleeping sitting up. Dean would have laughed had this been a normal day, but it was anything but a normal day. Once again he fingered the letter in his jacket pocket. It did not sound so crazy now. It was anything but impossible. He had seen it with his own eyes. He would have to show it to Sam, but not right now. Right now there were mundane things to deal with, like grieving family and friends, and a funeral.

* * *

Dean stood at Sam's right elbow while Mikey stood at his left. Mikey, nearly eighteen, stood only an inch or so shorter than Dean but outweighed them both. He was a guard on his high school football team and had been approached by numerous college scouts. The boy would be going to college on a football scholarship.

The preacher droned on about how tragic it seemed to lose such a young life that held so much promise, but the words washed past Dean. The letter in his pocket held his focus. He would have to tell Sam soon. Sam looked unsteady as they lowered the casket into the ground. Dean put a hand on his arm and noticed Mikey doing the same. They exchanged a knowing look. Dean gave him a nod, indicating he agreed not to leave Sam alone.

After the funeral some of Sam's friends tried to approach, to talk to him, but Dean shadowed his steps and Mikey performed his guard duties admirably. They knew Sam, knew he would not want to discuss anything right now, knew he needed some time. Dean watched Sam say his private goodbye to her marble marker. He and Mikey escorted their brother to the Impala. They followed their parents' car back to the motel.

Dean could not find a way to convince Mikey not to stay in the same room with him and Sam without hurting the boy's feelings, so Mikey stayed with them. He realized that Mikey would have to learn about the letter too, because there was no way to do it now without him. And Dean was certain he could not wait any longer.

"Sam," Dean said gently, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder to distract him from the fascinating wallpaper. "Do you remember what you saw? What really happened to her?"

Mikey frowned from his position opposite Sam. Dean decided to ignore it as long as the kid did not interrupt.

"It isn't possible," Sam whispered, his voice shaking. "She..she was…"

"On the ceiling," Dean finished for him, pulling out the crumpled letter.

"Do what?" Mikey's voice was too loud. This was starting to scare him.

Dean handed Sam the letter and moved to sit next to Mikey. He bumped shoulders with the youngest brother, trying to reassure him. Dean watched Sam's face carefully as the bereaved man read the letter.

"This can't be," he whispered.

"That's what I thought, but…after Jess." Dean shrugged.

"What can't be?" Mikey demanded, eyes darting between his two brothers.

Sam held out the letter with a shaking hand to Mikey, staring at Dean. "When did you get this?"

Dean considered lying, but he brushed the thought away. "About a month ago."

Sam stared at him while Mikey read the letter. "So that isn't what sent you flying across the country to see me?"

Dean shook his head, eyes dropping to the floor. Now, after all that happened, his nightmare seemed so ridiculous and irrelevant he was embarrassed to tell them.

"Must have been another nightmare," Mikey mumbled from behind the letter.

"Was it?" Sam demanded.

Dean bit his lip and nodded. "It was so real. And," he paused, wondering if he should tell them. Looking at the anguish in Sam's face, he knew he would have to now. He had never told anyone this part before, not their parents, the therapists, or his brothers. No one. "And I saw my mom pinned to the ceiling. The fire started around her body."

Sam's eyes widened. "Our mom?"

"Not Kate," Dean said quickly. "You know I'm adopted."

"We're adopted," Sam said pointedly. Dean noticed Mikey start at that.

"Yeah, our mom," Dean said with a sigh. Apparently Sam heard more the night John Winchester showed up than he admitted at the time.

"So you're saying this crap," Mikey waved the letter at them, "about a demon after Sam, is real?"

Dean looked at the floor. "I think so," he whispered.

"Damn it, Dean!" Mikey punched him in the shoulder. "Stop that!"

Dean looked up to glare at Mikey.

"That's better," Mikey breathed, sparing him a grin. Dean rolled his eyes.

"He went on a date," Sam said, looking at both of them for the first time since leaving for the funeral.

"No way!" Mikey turned to stare at Dean. "Blind date?"

"No!" Dean looked away. "But she's real pretty." He could feel the grin seeping over his face.

"You want to find him, don't you?" Sam asked, cutting through the temporary lightness.

"Well, after what happened, I think I should, don't you?" Dean met Sam's eyes. There was a hollow emptiness there Dean had never seen before. He had felt that himself, but Sam was the one who had always been protected from it by the sheer virtue of his youth. A youth that was long gone now.

"No," Sam said with a shake of his head, "I think we should."

"What about school?" Dean asked, knowing the answer.

"You really think I could concentrate after this? That I even care!" Sam raged on his feet, towering over them.

Dean did not look away. "No. Okay, we'll go."

"What about me?" Mikey demanded.

"You have to finish high school," Dean said, still looking at Sam. Sam's gaze bore into Mikey now as he nodded in agreement.

"I don't like it," Mikey said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I really don't like this. You two can wait a few months for me to graduate."

Dean turned to face his youngest brother. "You say that like you think we'll find him."

Mikey grimaced at both of them. "I know you two. You'll find him. And then you'll find out how to find this demon, or whatever it is." Dean found himself on the receiving end of one of Mikey's patented glares. "And probably go get the both of you killed while I sit around going to pep rallies."

Dean met Sam's gaze. An unspoken agreement passed between them. He turned back to their baby brother. "Mikey, we'll come get you after school is out. We promise."

Mikey leaned back, regarding them both. "Yeah. Right."

"Have either of us ever broken a promise to you, Mikey?" Sam's voice was hard and dark. Dean suppressed a shudder when he heard it. Mikey shook his head slowly. "Then we'll come get you."

A heavy silence hung between them. Often when they all shared a room, there was silence between them, but back then it was the easy silence between people who did not need to talk all the time. This was the strained silence of words needing to be said but no one willing to say them. Dean squirmed on the bed, unable to handle it. The walls were starting to close in. He was just considering how bad it would look if he just left for a quick walk, when Sam spoke.

"I have nightmares, too."

What was that? "What?" But it was Mikey who asked, not Dean. And Dean wanted to hear this.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck. "Nightmares. I have them too. Sometimes." He shrugged at Dean. "I think I'm starting to understand."

"What are yours about?" Dean asked, perched on the edge of the bed.

Sam looked away, shaking his head. Dean knew better than to press the issue. That always made his nightmares worse. He saw Mikey leaning forward, so he put out a restraining hand. With a simple head shake, Mikey understood not to ask any more.

Dean and Mikey stood, each placing a hand on one of Sam's broad shoulders. "No problem, Sammy. Just remember, we're here."

TBC...


	5. Chapter 5

This is all I had planned. Thanks for all the glorious reviews, ya'll really made my week!

**Chapter 5**

Mikey shuffled out of the auditorium. He had turned in his robe and collected his real diploma after graduation, but it felt empty. Granted, he could not pick out his family in the huge crowd gathered, but he had assumed Sam and Dean would have shown up before it started.

"Come on, Mikey!" Brad Downing gave him a shove. "Cheer up! We're graduates now!"

"Yeah!" Derrick Brown raced to join them as they walked. "You coming to the big party tonight?"

Mikey sighed. He did not feel like partying. He felt like tracking down his brothers and kicking their collective asses for breaking a promise. He shrugged. "Dunno."

"Whoa! Check out the classic Chevy!" Brad pointed out the glass doors.

Mikey's head snapped up. It was the Impala and two men were leaning against it. "Catch you later, guys!" Mikey shouted, bolting for the doors. He raced outside and down the steps for the black car.

"Hey kiddo!" Dean greeted him as he barreled into his oldest brother.

Mikey lifted him up, spinning around. "You made it! Did you see me!"

"Put me down!" Dean barked, hitting him lightly on the shoulders and struggling against Mikey's hold. Despite his tone, Dean was grinning.

"Of course we saw you!" Sam laughed from beside them as Mikey dropped Dean to the ground. Mikey leaned into Sam, pinning him against the Impala's fender. "Knock it off!"

"Yo! Mikey!" He turned around to see Brad and Derrick walking up behind him. "Who's that?"

"Hey, guys! Come meet my brothers!" Mikey waved them closer. "Brad and Derrick, this is Sam," he always introduced Sam first since Dean did not like to talk to people. "And this is Dean."

"Congratulations," Dean boomed, grasping each of the Mikey's friends by the hand. "Party tonight?"

"You bet!" Derrick replied. "It's at Brad's house."

"Don't suppose you'd let a couple of old guys like us come, too?" Dean grinned at them with a wink.

Mikey studied his oldest brother for a moment, shocked. There was something different about him, more than the fact Dean was actually talking to strangers. His eyes were hard and – what was it? – confident? Sam was different too. He was more reserved, his eyes tracking and evaluating everything.

"Uh, yeah, sure. That'd be awesome," Brad bubbled. "You can buy the keg for us!"

Dean laughed lightly. Wait, Dean laughed? "No problem, dude. What time you want it there?"

"Dean," Sam's voice was reproving.

"Aw, come on, Sammy. We'll be there to supervise. Besides, it's been too long since we had a little fun." Dean beamed at them.

"Six o'clock," Brad said quickly. Dean nodded at him.

"Yeah, have a little fun, Sammy," Derrick rejoined.

Mikey grabbed his friend by the shirtfront. "It's Sam!" he declared, shaking Derrick.

"Whoa, easy there, Mikey," Dean pried his fingers off Derrick's shirt. "Come on, you're riding with us." Dean shoved him toward the backseat. He gave Mikey a stern look before climbing behind the steering wheel.

"We'll catch you later!" Dean shouted to Mikey's friends as they peeled away from the auditorium with a sullen Sam.

"Dean, we are not going to that party," Sam glared from the passenger seat.

"Sure we are, Sammy," Dean replied, a mischievous grin on his face. "Just don't let me drink too much, okay?"

Sam glanced back at Mikey, rolling his eyes.

"Did you find him? Your dad?" Mikey asked, unable to wait any longer. He had not heard from either of them since before New Year's.

"Yeah, we found him," Sam's gaze was drawn back to the front. "It's true. All of it."

"All of it? Demons, ghosts, the whole bit?" Mikey leaned over the front seat so he could hear them both.

"The whole bit," Dean held up a leather bound book. "This is Dad's journal. He documented everything he knows about the supernatural and how to kill it in here."

Mikey took the book, flipped through it looking at the handwritten pages. "And he just gave it to you?"

A small smile crept over Sam's face. "Not exactly." He let out a dark chuckle. "Dean nearly killed him."

Mikey looked between his brothers. "What happened?"

"Sam stopped me," Dean ground out, clearly not happy about it.

"Dean, you can't just kill the man. It's not like he killed her. He's as much a victim as we are." Sam argued. It sounded like a well worn argument.

"Not hardly," Dean spat. He shot Sam a hard look. "And stop defending the bastard."

Sam sighed. He turned his face to Mikey. "He said he thought we'd be safer with Mike and Kate. That he was afraid we'd get hurt if he took us with him after the thing that killed our mother." Sam shrugged. "He was probably telling the truth, as he saw it."

Dean grunted from the driver's seat, his eyes glued to the road. Sam shrugged at Mikey. No one said anything more until Dean pulled into the liquor store. "I'll get the keg."

Sam waited until Dean was inside before nudging Mikey's arm. "We need to get him really drunk tonight."

"What? Why? He said he didn't want to." Mikey stared at Sam, who had always been the stable, take-charge brother.

Sam grinned. "You'll see."

Sam and Dean did not want to go home before the party. Dean was afraid Mom and Pop would not let them out of the house after they had been gone for so long. He was probably right. So Mikey called and lied to their parents, saying he caught a ride with Brad and was staying for the party. He would be home later. He hoped the lie would be ignored after they saw Dean and Sam in the morning.

Dean set up the keg like an old pro, which Mikey watched suspiciously. "What?" Dean demanded. "Dude, I went to college too, you know."

"State. While you lived at home," Mikey pointed out. "You went to what? Two parties?"

Dean's gaze was directed at the keg. "A few more than that," he admitted.

Mikey frowned. "I don't remember more."

Dean shrugged, testing the tap. "I don't either."

Mikey felt a nudge from behind. It was Sam. He winked. Apparently this was the reason they needed to get Dean drunk. Oh yeah, he was definitely game now.

As the graduates started showing up, Sam and Mikey took turns making sure Dean's plastic cup never got empty. After a couple of hours, Dean was flirting and charming all the girls. Mikey watched, amazed.

"Told ya," Sam laughed, squeezing in next to Mikey on the couch. "It's like seeing a whole new side of him, isn't it?"

"Damn," Mikey breathed. "That is not the same guy I used to buy movie tickets for, because there was a girl selling them at the ticket booth."

"That guy," Sam pointed with his cup at Dean, who had three eighteen year old cheerleaders hanging on his every word, "could probably get us all in for free."

Mikey lowered his voice, pitched it for Sam alone to hear. "When do we leave?"

"In a couple of days," Sam replied, "when Dean recovers from this hangover." He chuckled. "Man, is he going to be pissed at us."

"Where are we going?" Mikey asked, leaning into his older brother's shoulder. He was so glad they were here. The past five months were a lonely, isolated hell for him. As the youngest, Mikey understood that one day his older brothers would leave and he would have his own room. However, considering how reluctant Dean had been to even move to his own room, Mikey never thought it would happen. Then when Dean started working at the garage and going to college he was home less and less. The same weekend Sam moved to California was the weekend Dean quietly found his own apartment near the shop. Dean moved out a month later, but he was around the house so much Mikey did not have the opportunity to really miss him. The five months with no contact had come not just as a shock, but a life-altering event. He knew Mom and Pop had even considered therapy for him, but after what they considered a thirteen year fiasco with Dean, the idea was quickly dismissed.

"We'll talk about it tomorrow," Sam promised, glancing around the room. "Not here."

Mikey nodded. He doubted anyone would remember or believe anything odd overheard between him and Sam, but apparently safe was better than sorry.

"Oh, and don't get drunk," Sam took his cup of beer away. "You're driving."

"Hey! I'm the graduate here! I should get to party." Mikey protested.

"You're underaged, you shouldn't be drinking anyway," Sam pointed out.

"Everyone here is drinking, Sam!" How many motherly brothers can a guy have, anyway?

"Everyone here isn't my little brother," Sam said pointedly, pouring the rest of Mikey's beer into his own cup. "Suck it up."

Mikey felt his eyebrows arch at that. Suck it up? What the hell?

"Go get a coke or something," Sam elbowed him in the ribs.

Mikey scowled as he went in search of soda. When he returned with root beer in hand, apparently the only kind of beer he was going to be allowed the rest of the night, Dean saw him and waved him over.

"Ladies, have you met my baby brother Mikey?" He was smooth and charming. Mikey wondered if it were possible his big brother was possessed by James Dean or something, since apparently those kinds of things were possible. He made a mental note to discuss it with Sam later. "Mikey, the graduate who has a football scholarship!" Dean turned beer-bleary eyes on him. "Which one did you accept, anyway?"

"Accept?" None. He was going with them!

"You have to take one of them, Mikey!" Dean wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "You'll have to sign one of them before we leave." His voice broached no argument.

"You're leaving?" One of the girls, Mikey recognized her as the head cheerleader, um, Stella Something, asked. She sounded disappointed.

"Road trip," Dean grinned. "Me and my brothers, we're heading off to explore this great land of ours." Dean slapped his shoulders. "Sure would hate for Mikey to have to set out still a vir-"

Mikey stomped on Dean's foot, cutting him off.

"Ouch!" Dean hopped on one foot, spilling his beer all over Stella.

"Hey!" Stella screamed. She leapt up and slapped Dean. In his beer induced haze he did not appear to have felt it.

Dean looked at the two remaining cheerleaders. He held up his free hand, comparing three fingers with the two girls standing in front of him. "What happened?" he asked Mikey, his speech distinctly slurred. "I thought I had one for each of us."

"Maybe we should head home now," Mikey suggested. He saw Stella talking to the offensive line, pointing out Dean. "Right now." Mikey steered Dean to the door and Sam fell in line behind them.

"Keys?" Mikey asked. Sam slapped them into his outstretched hand. Even three sheets to the wind, Dean insisted on sitting up front. Sam grumbled as he crawled into the back. Mikey started up the powerful car, smiling as he remembered all the afternoons Dean let him help with oil changes and suckered him into waxing the beast.

* * *

The next morning Mikey woke to the sounds of groaning.

"You assholes. You weren't supposed to let me get drunk." Dean lay on the bottom bunk, one arm flung over his eyes to block out the light. "If I don't die, I'm gonna kill both of you."

Sam dropped from the top bunk, grinning. "You'll have to catch us first, Dean. And I don't think you're in any shape to do that." He walked over to shake Mikey. "Let's go let Mom and Pop know we're here. But don't tell them about the road trip." Sam glanced back at Dean, who was moaning piteously. "Not yet, anyway."

Sam made a point of stomping right by Dean's bed, eliciting louder moans. He chuckled as he led them out of the room. "Why do you still have the bunkbeds?" Sam asked as they headed toward the stairs.

Mikey shrugged. "Just, you know, in case."

Sam glanced back at him as he took the stairs two at a time. "In case of what?"

"Dunno." It was a nonanswer answer, just one of many things living with Dean taught him. That and bullies were to be pitied, not feared, if Dean found out about them. Not that bullies were something he had needed to worry about in the past few years, but it was still nice to think about.

Sam stopped in the hall, before they could be seen from the kitchen. "You really want to go on this trip with us?" he whispered. "You won't ever be able to look at things, life, the same way again."

"I'm going," Mikey insisted. "You two aren't abandoning me again."

"Mikey," Sam rested a hand on his shoulder while his brother's eyes looked past him.

"We never did abandon you," Dean's voice came from behind him.

Mikey whirled around. "You never called."

Dean shrugged. "Neither did you. But we still came back. We kept our promise." Dean pressed a finger into his chest. "And if you had called, we would have been there for you." There was no sign of the hangover now.

"I know," Mikey admitted, wondering over this new intensity in both his brothers. "And I'm going."

"Good. Now I need some coffee or I'm gonna stake somebody." Dean rubbed a hand over his face as he pushed past them toward the kitchen.

"He is kidding, right?" Mikey looked up at Sam. Sam's face went carefully blank as he turned to follow Dean. "Sam? He is kidding? Sam!" Mikey hurried after his brothers, something he suspected he would be doing a lot of in the next few months.

"Dean! Sam!" He heard Mom squeal in the kitchen. Mikey knew that there would be about a half hour of 'so happy to see you' before the 'how dare you not call for five months' started. He slipped into the kitchen to enjoy the next thirty minutes while it lasted, before things started getting back to normal. If you could call it normal around here.

As he accepted a cup of coffee from Sam, Mikey wondered what normal people did the day after graduation. Probably not get ready for a road trip to go hunt a demon with their big brothers. Mikey did not know what he'd done to deserve this, but he was grateful. After all, who else had brothers like his?

The End. (Next: Problems With Dean: Road Trip)


End file.
